Page 79 of Chaos

It’s only a matter of time before Lavinia Hope finds me, if she hasn’t already.

Frankie can’t leave.

But I have to.

And I’m not leaving them without bullets.

It’s time to take that factory.

I jog down the service staircase, my steps echoing up and down.

At the main level, I skirt along the edge of the lobby toward the rear exit to the back lawn, where I find Church and Jacquetta.

They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the topmost rampart of the wall, overseeing squads of soldiers.

The wind is behind them, buffeting the olive drab fabric of their coats and pants. It’s a grim day. It snowed last night, and dark muddy tracks meander across the rear lawn, circling around Frankie’s vegetable beds, rimming along the base of the freshly-poured wall. Soldiers give me a wide berth, glaring and scowling when they see me, more overtly disrespectful than they’d have been toward a major before the government collapsed.

Jacquetta steps to the edge of the wall and watches as I climb up the ladder and join them.

“Two or three days,” she says.

“Have we gotten word yet?” I ask, meaning from Kelly.

“Not yet. But soon.”

We look over the wall.

“How long till it’s done?” I ask.

“As soon as she gets back to us, we’re going in. Are we ready?”

“Always.” Church shoves his hands into his pockets. “They’ll attack if we do.”

“That’s what the walls are for. And we’re not taking it to hold it. I don’t want the factory, I want what’s in it. We’ll get in there, dismantle the machines, and bring them home.”

And then I guess I’ll find out what the man who fathered me felt when he left my mom and me behind.

19 |What can kill a rat rat

FRANKIE

THE SECOND SHASTAputs down her empty coffee mug in the Tastemaker that morning, I say, “Great. You’re all done?”

“Uhhh—” Her red-tipped fingers waft over the table until she relocates her fork, which she unobtrusively pushes around on her plate.

“It’s empty. Basta, Shasta!” I grab her hand and tug, itchy to get away from this place.

Colleen and Len are deep in conversation in one corner. Mitsy, who’s hated me extra since the day she found me inmygreenhouse, is glaring at me from across the room like amalicious cat with slitted eyes, like she can see through me, my brain, and my bag.

Realistically, I know no one has x-rays for eyes, but I’ve been hyper aware of my bag ever since I went to the greenhouse before breakfast and tucked a box full of poison inside it.

“Come on,” I say again.

And the thing about deciding to kill someone, I’ve learned, is once you’ve committed, you want it done.

She blusters about clearing her plate, but Church waves us off. “I got it, Blondie. Apparently, I’m out of time with you.”

I’m still not entirely clear on the terms of their relationship, but since I didn’t paint her nails red, he must have.

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